


Quite Some Party

by Adele



Series: Teambuilding [1]
Category: Stargate (1994), Stargate SG-1
Genre: Comfort, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Gen, Humor, Seasonal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-09-18
Updated: 2001-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-01 14:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adele/pseuds/Adele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever twist of fate had landed us in this little mess, we were cursing it fairly eloquently in a couple of languages. It didn't help that we had worked our way through a few bottles of assorted alcohols. </p><p>Later, maybe we'd decide it hadn't been a good idea after all. But hell, it was Halloween, and we were all feeling kind of vindictive and ready to let loose our inner brats at the party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quite Some Party

**Author's Note:**

> Includes spoilers for the Stargate movie and the first season of SG-1, up to and including Hathor.
> 
> First story in the Teambuilding Series, but can stand alone.
> 
> Set in October, episode-wise set anytime after Hathor and before But For The Grace Of God.
> 
> No pairings, and rated PG-13ish for Jack's language.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters and universe contained in this story are Copyright MGM/Showtime/Gekko/Double Secret. No infringement on their copyright is implied.
> 
> Notes: I had intended to wait to put this on the web until October, but some friends persuaded me that, due to recent US events, SG-1 fans can use a bit of normal daily life right now, so I'm going ahead with it. I'm hoping it brightens someone's day or brings a smile to someone's face somewhere. God bless, blessed be, and take care, folks...

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ -

Whatever twist of fate had landed us in this little mess, we were cursing it fairly eloquently in a couple of languages. It didn't help that we had worked our way through a few bottles of assorted alcohols. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

With the change in administration, some fancy consultants had been called in to evaluate the atmosphere and stability of the SGC. The recommendations of the various roving bands of suits had been duly considered, and even though some were in direct conflict, apparently the Stargate project was considered so important that the US taxpayers would be coughing up the cash to follow all of the recommendations.

This apparently included, in no particular order, a new coat of paint that was not quite pink in the infirmary, holding cells, and on-base sleeping quarters to promote an atmosphere of restful peace, more mandatory social functions for base personnel to better integrate the separate teams with base departmental staff, random slight changes in pitch and decibel-level for gate-related alerts to keep us from disregarding or accustoming ourselves to them, new full-spectrum fluorescent bulbs for all daily-use fixtures, additional visits by psychiatrists and psychologists to give all of us complete individual and team evaluations, flow-reduction showerheads in the locker rooms for increased frugality and efficiency, a new hypoallergenic detergent for use in the base laundry facility, and new ergonomic chairs, glare-reduction monitor filters and squishy wrist-rests for the control room computers.

None of us really wanted to deal with the shrinks. Especially since MacKenzie appeared to be first in line for the spot of heading up the teams. We all had a bad feeling about him, even Janet had admitted to it.

She had prevented most of our somewhat explosive reaction by corralling us in infirmary before the general announcements were made, giving us enough warning to keep our reactions moderate while we were in view of the higher-ups, but it had been a loud half-hour down there while we all shouted and bitched and whined about the situation. Thank heaven for small favors, because we had it all under control by the time SG-1 had to spit-and-polish ourselves to bid good-bye to the investigative consultant liaison and the VIPs with Hammond. We managed to say our good-byes without screeching 'good riddance!' at them.

And then Carter had the brilliant idea of volunteering all of us to have our physicals done again, since we 'hadn't had time these past few days, General Hammond sir, to take care of that.' We clued Janet in on the trick once we got back to the infirmary, and she somehow vanished the appropriate pages from our files, just so we could spend the rest of the day getting poked and prodded but not have to deal with any of the new changes taking place around base. What we would do if she wasn't firmly on our side of things, I don't know.

The only interruption was Hammond dropping by to talk to me briefly about needing my help to keep morale up on base in light of all of the changes. Yeah, changes, even well-intentioned ones, often cause upheaval. And some of the changes being instituted weren't terribly well thought-out, in my opinion, but what do I know, I'm just a Colonel, and the consultants were experts or whatever, and the VIPs were throwing their weight around. I didn't need that message all spelled out to hear it loud and clear. What was news was that the first newly minted social event was to be a masquerade ball in a week and a half's time. Inconvenient for us that Halloween was looming, I guess.

"A costume party, sir?"

"You could call it that, Colonel." Hammond looked quickly over the Janet, who was busily drawing blood from Daniel's arm, then his voice dropped to a near murmur, "And, Colonel, we may have the first observers at this ball. Consider this a heads-up, your flagship team and I are probably going to be under the closest scrutiny."

Peachy.

It was nearly 17:00 by the time we were done, and I had suggested we all escape to my place for beer, pizza, and more beer. Janet promised she'd join us if we agreed to try whatever she bought at the liquor store on her way. She's particular about her beer, but will drink goodness-knows-what-else without a second thought. What is it about doctors and alcohol?

We should have known that was a bad idea, I guess, but at that point, we didn't much care. Our team has been through so much together that we trust ourselves in pretty much any situation. We don't need any damned shrinks trying to pick apart the tangled snarls of our interpersonal or working relationships, and we sure as hell don't need any sunshine moments to realize that we're all happy little rainbow people under our scarred hides.

What was expected, that we'd dress up as raggedy annes and andys to show how well we play together?

We'd fled the base, piling into a couple of cars, calling ahead for a really tall stack of really good pizza on our way to my place. I sent a quick thanks to whatever god might not have been an alien for cell phones and good Italian takeout kitchens. By the time Janet showed up, we had already dug in to the garlic bread, and she actually needed help carrying the bags in from her car. Judging from that, I'll bet that Daniel and Carter are going to be passed out by midnight. We had enough good reasons to get sloshed, anyway.

Damn them all: VIPs, politicians, shrinks and snake-heads. When I started thinking about it, they weren't all that different.

We bitched and moaned for about an hour until we were all filled with pizza and well on our way to being hammered. Teal'c shocked the hell out of me by going for whisky neat. Janet joined him, laughing her ass off when he finally noticed the Jack Daniels label on the bottle as she poured their third round. I explained that it had nothing at all to do with Dr. Jackson's and my names, but all I got for my trouble was a lifted eyebrow and an "Indeed," before he downed another mouthful of whiskey.

OK, maybe Teal'c and Junior would be joining the other half of SG-1 in tasting the carpet in the morning.

I think that's when we started to get philosophical. I'm sure it was nearly entirely the fault of the booze.

Daniel made some very intellectual point about the new shrinks showing up on the one night of the year when spirits are said to walk among us, and downed two tequila shots before sucking the life out of a slab of lime.

Carter was efficiently working her way through a bottle of Merlot, commenting happily that Janet had found her favorite winery and vintage. She waved her glass at me, a little unsteadily. "So, Colonel, what are you going to be for Halloween?"

Oh, crap. "I dunno, maybe I'll go as a USAF Colonel."

Janet frowned at me. "Come on, sir, you can do better than that."

Daniel umm hmmm-ed, not looking up from his empty shot glass.

"Yeah, sir, with your looks, oh, I don't know, you could go as a General, at least... you know, with that whole silver fox thing you're working on..."

"Carter!"

Teal'c piped in, "What silver fox thing would that be referring to?"

Daniel, ever helpful, stepped in with, "She's referring to his gray hair, Teal'c. It's sometimes considered to be a very..." he barely suppressed a hiccough, "excuse me... a very distinguished look."

"Gee, thanks, Daniel. Doc, back me up here. You know I only started going gray when I took a certain civilian archaeologist linguist anthropologist on my team who happens to wear a big bright goauld target all over him every time we go through the gate..." OK, maybe that was going too far. But damnit, we'd bailed his ass out enough, and he'd bailed our asses out enough, and we were all drunk enough, that somehow it was all right to let this sort of thing hang out.

Maybe.

There was silence for a moment.

Then Daniel guffawed. Actual belly-splitting laughter. I haven't heard him do that in a very long time. It brought grins, then chuckles all around.

"Jack... Jack, I do not wear a goauld target..." He was still laughing.

Carter caught her breath enough to chime in, "Oh, of course you don't wear a goauld target, Daniel, it's more of an invisible electromagnetic field that acts as a magnet for any kind of trouble."

Janet waggled her finger at us. "Oh, Dr. Jackson doesn't have the only one of those. I think they were issued to each of you when you signed on for this team!" We all laughed for a bit at that, Carter lifting her glass in a silent toast.

We were all calming down from that, and I was halfway through another long pull of beer, when Teal'c calmly stated, "I concur." I choked, hard-pressed not to send beer flying out my nose. That's never a good idea for a CO to do in front of his subordinates.

It took everybody a while to calm down after a comment like that.

We'd eventually come to the conclusion that we'd all survive the latest slings and arrows at base together, somehow. That felt good.

But then Daniel spoke up. "We need a plan."

Carter giggled. My 2IC giggles at the strangest times. "Dan, the man with the plan, in a tan van..."

Daniel interrupted her. "Hey! I'm not kidding... Seriously, we need to come up with costumes. Hammond told Jack about the guests, to give us time to come up with something good."

Janet was looking devious. "Jack, I'm no psychiatrist, but they're probably going to be looking for all sorts of hidden meanings in whatever you choose. You might as well have some fun with it."

Carter agreed. "Yeah, I mean, if we can get a head start on convincing the psychiatrists that we're doing just fine, we should do it."

Daniel was nodding vigorously, then cocked his head to one side like he was listening. "You know, I've sometimes managed to blow shrinks out of the water just by swamping them with information and lots and lots of unrelated data. They gave up trying to make sense out of me. We should do that, maybe nip this whole quarterly evals thing in the bud. If we give them lots to cope with with the costumes right off as a distraction, then they can't analyze us, and they won't make any progress with the evaluations, right? Let's throw them for a loop the first time they meet us!"

At the time, that sounded just fine by the rest of us. It was really late, or early. I think I'd had five beers. Or was that six? In any case, we all agreed fairly quickly that any course of action that could possibly get us out of multiple head-shrink visits on a regular basis would be a good course to pursue.

Sometime later it became obvious that we would need all the time we had before the party to gather up costume materials. Daniel even took a bunch of notes, and we all crashed at some point to sleep it off.

The next morning, after we'd all rediscovered exactly how miserable hangovers can be, we sat down over a very light brunch and calmly reconsidered what he'd written. Each of us remembered some part of the conversation, so we pieced it all together. It sounded pretty silly in the cold light of morning, but hell, what did we have to lose? We'd saved the planet a couple of times, for crying out loud, and I was damned if I was going to let a bunch of feel-good new-age pencilpushers muck with the best minds I'd ever had on a team.

Besides, Janet was in on it. You can't go wrong with that, she can think circles around the rest of the doctors on staff, and they're supposedly the best of the best of the best or whatever.

Later, maybe we'd decide it hadn't been a good idea after all. But hell, it was Halloween, and we were all feeling kind of vindictive and ready to let loose our inner brats at the party.

But there was a lot of work to be done.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ -

So that's how I came to be, a week and a half later, trying not to squirm while Cassie lined the scar above my eye with pencil. She'd done something to my hair, too, even though it was going to be covered most of the time by a battered hat. Daniel had supplied some dust and the worn clothing, and I didn't ask Carter why she had a bullwhip I could borrow, I really didn't want to know.

Teal'c's costume had actually been the easiest. He'd been watching lots of DVDs lately, and his deep belly-laughs had carried down the corridors when he saw Men in Black. So, Carter's quick trip to a costume store and a little bit of ingenuity had covered his tattoo with a false third eye, and then a funky set of sunglasses with three lenses. That, a basic black suit, and a monster Super-Soaker painted silver, and he was set.

Daniel had managed to sweet-talk one of the security techs into a copy of a couple of frames from Lya's visit to the gateroom, and Cassie and Janet had had way too much fun gathering leaves and twigs. That lethal combination soon had Cassie looking like the most convincing little Nox on the planet. I still don't know where they got that different colored filmy fabric, or how they were going to get all that stuff out of her hair later, but she was adorable. There was no way she was going to miss this party, since she'd helped at least a bit with all of our costumes. Janet had arranged a babysitter to take her home so she wouldn't miss her bedtime, and for the treat of attending the party, Cassie didn't bat an eye when she promised she would leave the party when Janet told her to and actually go to sleep. She's a good kid.

Carter, with Daniel's help, had decided to mix Cimmerian native garb with Norse mythology and add a liberal dose of Xena, warrior princess. She ended up wrapped in a tight little brown and copper leather number that just made your eyes go everywhere they shouldn't, with a cloak over one shoulder and a blonde wig's long braids coiled like rope down in loops from underneath a wickedly-horned helmet. She had leather wrist bracers with little symbols stamped into them for each of the goaulds and their religions that we'd tangled with. Gotta love that little military tradition of notching your kills into your battle gear!

She also carried a staff with a three-dimensional copper-painted version of the Thor's Hammer symbol as its topper. Down the length of the staff handle, Daniel had used a metallic pen to write in English, runes, and hieroglyphics, 'abandon hope, all ye goauld who piss me off, I'll kick your ass into the next galaxy' or something like that. I hadn't had time to actually read the staff once he was done, but I was sure she'd be a hit at the party. The rest of the SG teams' jarheads would never forget that I had not only the best damned 2IC's in the service but also the best looking one!

Janet and Daniel had managed the most mind-bending tricks of all. I was hoping we hadn't gone too far with it, but it was well past too late now to worry about that. This is my team, and they've been having too damned much fun for me to even slow them down.

What had started as fairly funny inebriated banter about whether or not Janet dyes her hair had turned into a joking debate about whether or not there had been her particular shade available in the beauty shops of ancient Egypt. Then, Daniel of all people had shocked the hell out of all of us when he commented that Janet could be a natural as a certain goauld queen. It must have been the tequila that night.

As Cassie finished with my scar, I got my first good look at Janet.

Holy shit.

I actually got a chill down my spine, the likeness was that good.

That was just unnerving.

I couldn't believe that Daniel had actually helped her with this costume. I mean, of all of us, he and I should have the most trouble with memories of that bitch trying to take over the world. But I had heard his calm voice earlier, telling her certain parts of her makeup weren't quite right. And here I was, trembling with an honest-to-God shiver just looking in her direction.

I had to look away from her to shake that feeling, and then I saw him.

Well I'll be damned, they really did it.

He turned at exactly that moment. I don't know what I expected to see, maybe a little shadow of hurt or fear or at least nervousness or something, but he looked... well, the word defiant came to mind. So did words like vengeful and dangerous.

Oh.

He hates Hathor. He really hates all goauld, actually. And he really hates shrinks. And he's planning on screwing with the shrinks like the goauld try to screw with us.

Sometimes, I like the way this man thinks. I mean, who else would he picture as Hathor's consort?

Still, it's really damned creepy to see him dressed as Ra.

He cocked his head at me, experimenting with an imperious glare, and my mouth must have fallen open, because Carter said, "Careful, sir, you'll catch flies."

I blinked a few times and carefully closed my mouth. Daniel walked over, concerned. "Jack, are you OK?"

Yeah, sure. No problem. You just happen to look like the snakehead bastard that killed you, brought you back to life, tried to make you kill me and my team, and that I was willing to blow up a whole population and our team to get rid of. And I had a whole week and a half to prepare for this, so it should be fine. No big deal, Daniel. "Oh, yeah, I'm just wondering if you did your own hair and eyeliner. You seem to have all sorts of hidden talents, you know..."

Daniel heard the unspoken thoughts, because he reached out and squeezed my shoulder briefly . "No, actually Janet helped. But I was going from memory of what it should look like, and the wig isn't quite right. Did we get the look close enough?"

Too well, Daniel, all too well. Everything from wig and the eyeliner down to the robes and the jewelry. How had they found or made stuff like that in a week and a half? And had he actually tanned that evenly or used some sort of chemical? I shook myself out of that particular puzzle. "Oh, yeah, I'd say so. But the glasses look a little odd."

He smiled gently, then nodded. "I guess we're ready for the finishing touch, right, Janet?"

I took a few deep breaths, feeling calm return because this guy actually understood. He knew me well enough to get me through the rough patches, drawing everyone's attention away from me to Janet, who was bringing out a pair of small plastic cases, so I could get back to being calm cool collected Colonel. What else had they brought? Everybody looked set to me...

Janet grinned. "I have an opthamologist friend. We're going to scare the hell out of people tonight... maybe we should ask the General to come down here before we go to the party..."

An opthawhat friend?

Daniel had stepped back to the mirror, and was putting some kind of eye drops into his eyes, then opened the case Janet had handed him and hunched over for a bit. When he looked up and turned back to face us, Carter let out a nervous laugh. "That's too good, Daniel, you're going to give everybody heart failure."

He grinned, his now vaguely iridescent yellow irises catching the light. "Maybe Janet's right about letting General Hammond in on this. We don't want to get shot, now do we?"

Janet chuckled, putting in her own set of contacts, and then turning to drape her arm languorously through Daniel's.

One solid look at the two of them and I burst out laughing. "Yeah, we're gonna get our asses shot off. Let's call Hammond."

He seemed a little startled that we would want him to check out our costumes before we made our grand entrance, but said that he was already dressed and would make time to come down. I took a deep breath.

"OK, team, we're gonna make quite a splash tonight, but just try to have fun, OK? Politely ignore anyone you don't know, unless you notice them paying too much attention to you, which might mean they're our little observers. We aren't trying to give anyone but them the wrong impressions, right?"

Everyone agreed, then sat around being a little nervous and fidgety. Carter looked from Daniel and Janet to me and volunteered to let Hammond in, a mischievous glint in her eye. I gave her the go-ahead and she visibly calmed herself down and made a show of keeping a straight military-detachment face when the knock at the door finally came. She poked her head out into the hallway.

"Hello, sir. Or, should that be howdy?" We heard his warm chuckle. "We just wanted to make sure that you wouldn't be too startled when your flagship team joins the masquerade, sir."

She brought him into the room, white ten-gallon hat, pair of silver six-shooters, big boots with spurs and all, and he stopped in his tracks. He looked slowly around the room, taking it in one costume at a time, his frown deepening and his eyebrows twitching up and down as he went. From my vantage, every single person met his gaze without flinching. I love my team.

"Colonel O'Neill?"

I stood smartly to attention, the very image of calm. "Yes, sir."

He shook his head slowly, and a slow grin spread across his features. "Oh, this is going to be quite some party."

~ - ~ fin ~ - ~


End file.
